Page 81 of Stealing Tink

We all stare at the chair to my left. The chair that is now empty.

“He couldn’t have just escaped. He was tied up right there,” says the first guard. “You,” he says, spinning around toward Venus, but she’s as panicked as the guards, her eyes darting around the room, her pitch hiked.

“He was just there,” she says, pointing toward the empty chair in the middle of the room as if it were a specter.

“I’ve heard rumors,” whispers the second guard, his eyes wide, his voice trembling. “They say he’s a ghost.”

“Surely you don’t believe that,” says the first guard, although he, too, looks unsure.

A dark, bodiless chuckle echoes through the room. The second guard shrieks and practically throws himself toward the bolted door, keys rattling.

The lock clicks. As the bolt comes free and the door opens, there’s a cracking sound. Before my eyes, the second guard falls to the floor. The only thing left in his place is a chair hanging in midair, slightly askew. Before the first guard can react, the chair swings around, smacking him in the back of the head as well. He slumps behind me.

“What was that about not being good in a fight?” says a growl from the shadows.

Venus takes a step backward. “You tricked me.”

The Nomad materializes. There’s no amusement left in his expression, though sarcasm drips from his lips. Anger simmers underneath his words. “Did I?”

“You’re still tied up,” says Venus, betraying her lack of confidence by taking another step backward. She glances around him, around me, toward the door.

“I can see it in your eyes; you’re calculating,” says the Nomad. “What do you think the chances are that you make it through that door?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, though her gaze is still darting back and forth between the Nomad and her potential escape path.

The Nomad kicks his foot back, and the door clicks closed behind him.

“You. Untie her,” he says, glancing from Venus to me.

“I could scream,” she says. “The guards would come running.”

“If there was anyone close by, these two imbeciles on the floor would have tried that when they thought I’d escaped, don’t you think?” he counters. “Besides, even if they do come running, it’s not as if they’ll see me coming.”

“You lied to me.”

The Nomad laughs loudly enough that it echoes through the room. If there were any guards out in the hallway, they’d surely hear it. But perhaps that’s his point. “That one’s on you. You didn’t really think I would let you leave with all your magic, did you? You didn’t think I wouldn’t keep something behind as collateral?”

“Makes no difference to me,” says Venus, her jawline bunching as she tries to keep a brave face. “Didn’t seem to affect my powers at all.”

“No. But do you know what will affect your powers?” says the Nomad. “Death. Although, to be technical, I suppose you will be invisible eventually. The decaying process is funny like that.”

Venus shudders.

“I said, untie her,” says the Nomad. “And I can see what you’re thinking. What are the odds you can turn invisible, get out the door, and outrun me? Trust me. I’ve marked you, Venus. And if I had to hunt Tink down, I’ll hunt you down as well. You could probably escape me—if you stayed invisible for the rest of your life. But I have eyes everywhere. In every dark corner. And if I don’t find you, it’ll only be because you never show your face. To anyone. Ever again.”

“The Company will kill me. They’d know I let you escape,” she says.

“If, between the two of us, you wished for the Company to be more frightening, you shouldn’t have told them to cover up Tink’s hands.”

My heart clenches in my chest, my body still aching with the pain.

Venus’s mouth ticks open, and I can see the calculation in her eyes. “I didn’t tell them to torture her.”

“Untie her,” says the Nomad, “before I change my mind.”

Venus swallows, then makes her way across the room. As soon as she touches my restraints, the pain surges again. Her fingers fumble with the restraints, and for an agonizing few seconds, I think I might actually pass out. But then the restraints come free, thudding to the floor.

Moving my hands from behind the chair to my lap takes a stronger will than I’ve had to utilize in quite some time. Again, the pain of moving them feels like a wall, one I have to simply believe is all in my mind. Like my limbs are seizing up, refusing to move.